


From Sorrow to Joy

by bluegoldrose



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergence - Red Wedding, F/M, Family, Gen, Hope, Love, POV First Person, Second Chances
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-03-04 01:15:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2903930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluegoldrose/pseuds/bluegoldrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Catelyn was sent to Greywater Watch instead of traveling to the Twins.  After that, nothing for her was ever the same.  Catelyn's life through her eyes, over many years of her life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From Sorrow to Joy

I did not cry until I returned to Winterfell.  For it was within the broken, burned, and lonely shell of my husband’s home that I truly came to terms with all that I had lost.  When last I had been within the walls of Winterfell I had been a mother of five beautiful, healthy children, and the wife of a good man.  When I returned, I was a widow.  I had no children.  Winterfell was not the same.

The walls were stained with soot.  The floors were stained with blood.  Even now, years later, there are still stains that I can see.  When we arrived, we were low on supplies and winter was already harsh.  The worst part of Winterfell, after I returned, was the silence and emptiness.  The few inhabitants were refugees and soldiers.  Ned, my sweet Ned, was gone.  Even his tomb was empty.

I could wish to see my children running through the halls, laughing.  I could imagine them playing in the yards.  Yet all of my children were gone and the halls were so silent that I could do nothing but weep for the loss.

Dead, I suppose was the word for my children.  Yet in truth only Robb’s body had been accounted for, as far as I knew.  Robb... my firstborn... my king.  Murdered at my brother’s wedding.  Murdered and mutilated.  I might have died that night as well if Robb had not insisted that I travel to Greywater Watch with Lady Maege Mormont.  He wanted me safe, and away from his councils.  He had still been angry with me for releasing Jaime Lannister.  Perhaps I had been wrong to free the Kingslayer, perhaps he had been wrong for marrying Jeyne.  Our mistakes leave only wounds that can never heal.

I was still at Greywater Watch when word of Robb’s murder arrived.  I remained at Greywater with Lord Howland Reed and his wife Jyana until word arrived that Winterfell was recaptured for House Stark.  Recaptured by King Stannis Baratheon in order to win the North.

Stannis... a man who had murdered his own brother...  Yet he won my home and restored my husband’s house.  I could not help but wonder what the use of restoring House Stark was if there was no one left alive in House Stark.

I learned the truth as we travelled northward.  A false hope and a true hope.  A broken, shattered girl had claimed to be my Arya.  I knew the girl at first sight, Jeyne Poole, my Sansa’s friend in the past.  The truth was revealed, but she entered into my custody and protection.  It was Lord Manderly who restored one of my children to me.

Rickon, my youngest child, rode to Winterfell with a train of allies.  He was accompanied by his direwolf and a wildling woman.  I should have found joy in his return.  Yet I only found pain in seeing my youngest child, for he could not remember me.  Still, I thanked the gods that by their grace he had lived.  He was proclaimed Lord of Winterfell, Lord of the North.

We bent the knee to King Stannis, for what other choice did we have?  Robb had wanted Jon to become King in the North.  At the time Rickon had been thought dead, or the title would have passed to him.  Yet Jon was still committed to the Night’s Watch.

Jon...  There are still days when I am angry when I think about Jon.  My anger is no longer with him.  Before we left Greywater Watch, Lord Reed told me the truth of Jon’s birth.  Ned had lied to me for all the years of our marriage to keep his sister’s son safe.

I could understand Ned’s fear.  I could understand Ned’s desire to protect family.  I could not, and do not understand why he never felt that he could tell me the truth.  Perhaps my anger when I think about Jon is toward Ned.  Perhaps it is anger at Lyanna or at Rhaegar.  She had run away with him.  Thousands of lives lost because a girl had run away with the son of a madman.  Perhaps I am just angry with how senseless life has been.

Howland had travelled to Winterfell with me.  He left with King Stannis’s men to see Jon at the Wall.  Many long months passed before Howland returned.  He informed me that Jon had finally been told the truth of his birth.  Jon had apparently taken the information stone-faced, not betraying what he truly felt about the matter.  Is it any wonder that he could still be thought of as Ned’s son?

There were difficulties at the Wall.  Reports of ice monsters beyond the Wall.  Reports that Jon had allowed hundreds of wildlings through the Wall.  Reports that Jon had been attacked and nearly killed by the men of the Night’s Watch.  Jon now served in a different capacity to King Stannis.  He was a liaison between the various factions who were guarding the North.  Jon swore to work foremost for the safety of House Stark.

I was the leader of House Stark, and it was difficult to say what the toughest aspect of leading Winterfell was.  I was surrounded by ghosts which haunted my mind and heart.  I was getting to know my only child again.  Perhaps it was the harshness of winter with low supplies which had been most difficult.

Then there were the marriage proposals.  Every unwed Lord who was loyal to House Stark proposed marriage.  I was still young enough that bearing another child was not out of the realm of possibility.  Yet I knew it was not their own child they wished for, but to control the only remaining Stark.  I knew that proposals of marriage were not unexpected, but I hated every one.

I would go to the godswood to weep.  The sept was in ruins.  The beautiful sept which Ned had built for me... Even if the sept were to be rebuilt, it would never be the same.  I had grown to love Ned because he had built that sept for me.

In the godswood Howland would often find me.  He would kneel beside me silently as I prayed before the heart tree.  His own prayers were as heartfelt.  If any man could understand my losses, it was him.  His wife had died during our trip to Winterfell.  A feverish cough wracked her body for a week before she died.  His children had disappeared with my Bran, so long ago that their deaths were considered a fact.

After weeks of praying in quiet silence, I placed my hand in his.  He gave my hand a gentle squeeze in response.  From that day forward we would pray hand in hand before the heart tree.  He was never one of the lords to propose marriage to me, and for that I was ever grateful.

Months passed with only light snowstorms, allowing for the snow to be cleared away from the courtyards.  Reconstruction was started on the broken walls of the castle.  During our rebuilding, a report arrived from the south.  King’s Landing had fallen to Daenerys Targaryen.  She owned three dragons.  She was demanding oaths of fealty from the Lords of Westeros.

We were joined by the whole of Winterfell in the godswood to pray that Winterfell would not be consumed by dragons.  We prayed for wisdom.  We prayed for peace.

Lord Reed proposed marriage to me that same day.  He asked for my sake and for the sake of my son.  Though not a political match, I accepted with little hesitation.  I did not love him, not then, but I wanted him to stand by me until the end.  For I had come to rely upon his strength and his councils.  I had come to desire his company, especially in the godswood which had once been so alien to me.  Now the godswood is the place where I feel most content.

Our wedding was held by the end of that week.  A simple ceremony held before the heart tree.  Rickon watched with a smile.  He was finally calling me mother again.  He laughed when Howland and I kissed as husband and wife.

Husband... it had been years since Ned had died.  I think that of all the men to whom I could have been remarried, Ned would have approved of Howland the most.  Ned had trusted Howland with his life and secrets.  I had grown to trust Howland just as deeply.  Though physically the two men were very different, their spirits were very similar.  They were both kind, gentle, good men.  I do not think that I could have asked the gods for better husbands.

The night I wed Howland I was more nervous than when I married Ned.  We had no bedding ceremony, for we were both past such silliness.  Our lovemaking was difficult.  Not for lack of passion or desire, but for the sense of loss and guilt.  Neither of us had ever had sex with someone other than our first spouse before that night.  We learned to build our marriage slowly, one day and one night at a time.

When the dragons arrived we bent the knee together.  Daenerys Targaryen was still quite a young woman, and yet she was very determined to reclaim everything that had once belonged to her family.  We explained the plight of the North and of House Stark.  She accepted our fealty and promised supplies from the south.  She also promised to restore my brother Edmure to Riverrun and to deal with the Freys.

After the young queen left, we began to learn more and more about what had transpired throughout the rest of Westeros.  King’s Landing had been under siege from a young man claiming to be Aegon Targaryen, the son of Rhaegar Targaryen, when Daenerys arrived.  They united together to break the Lannister and Tyrell hosts.  He had apparently asked to marry her, but she refused him, not wanting to marry again.  Instead he married Princess Arianne Martell.

In the armies which arrived with the Dragon Queen was Tyrion Lannister.  He was now the Lord of the West.  His father, sister, and brother were all dead.  His nephews were dead.  His niece was declared a bastard, but her life was spared.  She was retained in King’s Landing.

Margaery Tyrell had died in King’s Landing as well.  Lord Mace Tyrell had died when Prince Aegon captured Storm’s End.  Lord Willas Tyrell bent the knee to the dragons just to prevent any further deaths.

My nephew Robert Arryn had died in the Vale some time past.  His distant cousin Harrold Hardyng was now Lord of the Vale.  The Vale bent the knee to the dragons long before their shadows flew over the mountains of the Vale.

While we were awaiting word from Daenerys’s interactions with Jon and Stannis at the Wall, a letter arrived from another of my lost children.  Sansa.  My beautiful daughter who had been lost to me so long ago.  She had been hiding in the Vale since Joffrey Baratheon was killed at his wedding.  She was now residing in the Westerlands, at Casterly Rock, with her husband Lord Tyrion.  She said that she was content with her husband, he had always treated her well.  She promised to visit in the spring.  I wrote to her daily after her first letter arrived.  She wrote to me almost as often. The letters never arrived in the proper order and some were most assuredly lost, but with one more living child, I felt my heart beginning to mend again.

We did not hear from the Wall for many months.  Finally, after it seemed that perhaps the Queen had died in the north, she and Jon arrived in Winterfell.  Each of them rode their own dragon, the third had remained with Aegon in the south.  Daenerys informed us that Stannis Baratheon had died in battle.  They had all ridden beyond the Wall to fight an army of unliving beings.  The battles had been fierce, claiming the lives of many.  Yet in the end they were victorious.  The Wall itself was now in ruins.  Jon would be remaining in the North to deal with the situations along the northern border.

The Queen returned to the south, reasserting her rule.  She did not often come north again, though Jon would fly to her in the south.  Young Shireen Baratheon had survived the dangers at the Wall and was installed as Lady Baratheon of Storm’s End.  She was wed to Trystane Martell.

Spring arrived after the dragons came south.  As the short spring was melting into summer, Meera Reed arrived at Winterfell.  She was welcomed by her father with many tears.  She was also welcomed by her young half-brother, named Eddard, made of the love Howland and I bear for one another.

Meera remained with us at Winterfell.  Slowly she told us everything that had transpired in the lands beyond the Wall.  Her brother Jojen had died in a cavern where they had stayed for a long time.  Bran was still alive.  However Bran would not return.  He had reached his destiny as a greenseer.

I will not pretend that I understand why my son cannot return to me.  Yet I suppose after so long a time, I can learn to be contented with knowing that he lives and breathes in the weirwood trees.  I believe that if everything my husband’s daughter says is true, then Bran can hear the prayers I whisper to the heart tree.  Perhaps knowing that Bran is closer to me when I am beside the heart tree is the strongest reason why I feel such peace in the godswood.

After the Queen returned from the wall, the seasons began to flow in the course of a single year.  At first the swift change of the seasons was terrifying.  In time however, we learned to accept the new ways of nature.

Five years after the seasons began to flow as one my Arya returned to me.  She was so much older and so different that she was difficult to recognize at first.  She recognized me.  Howland recognized her at first as Lyanna, and then I knew for certain that she was Arya.  Had not Ned always said that Arya resembled her aunt Lyanna?

The years have passed.  Time has lessened the aches of the wounds which I have endured.  I must content myself with the four living children I have instead of dwelling upon the two who have been lost to me.  I still see the ghosts in Winterfell.  I see Ned, Brandon, and Benjen.  I see Robb and Bran.  I see the babes I bore as they were so many years ago.  Yet now I also see their children, living and whole and beautiful.

Sansa has visited as often as she can. Though she does not visit as often as either of our hearts would desire.  My beautiful girl who endured so much pain.  She has five children of her own to love.  Though they bear the name Lannister, I do not love her children less.

Arya, Rickon, Meera, and Eddard all married into northern houses.  Arya wed with some protest, but she understood duty.  She understood the necessity of alliances in order to bring peace.  Arya has borne three children to her husband of House Flint.

Meera, sweet child, died after she bore her second child.  Her firstborn son is being raised in Winterfell as the future Lord of the Neck.  Her second son died at age two from a spider bite.

Rickon married into House Manderly, a reward for his rescue when he was a child.  They have had four children.  Thankfully all are fit enough to sit a horse.  His eldest son is named Robb and his second son is named Brandon.  I can think of no finer names for my grandsons, especially for the future Lord of Winterfell.

Eddard wed quite recently, his bride is from House Mormont.

My brother Edmure remained with his wife Roslin until her death birthing their fifth child.  They grew to love one another, in spite of all the wickedness which surrounded their marriage.  He has remarried and his new bride is expecting her second child.

The Riverlands took the longest to heal of any of the regions after the wars, but the Riverlands were mending under my brother’s rule.  We all were mending.  Each of us in our own ways found peace, found hope, found comfort.

The Dragon Queen’s rule is not an easy one.  Many factions tug at her, even today.  Many men proposed to marry her, just as I had once endured, though I do not doubt that for her it was.  In the end she wed Jon.  Jon... The boy whom I had raised and never loved.  The boy whose parentage had been hidden from him for many long years.  The boy who had come to resemble Ned so strongly that it hurt to see him.  He had become King of Westeros as his father should have been.  Already their eldest son was betrothed to the eldest daughter of Aegon, possibly Targaryen, and Arianne Martell.  All in the name of peace, for peace is often forged with our children’s lives.

Peace.  In the end we have all fought for peace.  Peace was forged through loss, and none understand that more than I. For I have lost many whom I loved, though I was blessed to regain three of my precious children. There are still wars, though none have been as bloody as the Wars of the Kings.  Rickon has rode out to fight battles more than once, yet more often he remains in the North.  Rickon is a good Lord of Winterfell.  I tell him often that Ned would have been proud of everything he has done.  I believe that Ned would be proud of all his children, for truly I am.  Each of them has accomplished more than I could have ever dreamed.

The best part of all is that Winterfell is now filled with laughter instead of tears.  Filled with light instead of darkness.  Filled with joy instead of sorrow.  Once I was a widow and now I remain a wife.  Once I had no children and now I am surrounded by my children and their children. Howland and I watch our children and grandchildren flourish and thrive in a world that had threatened to kill them all.  Truly we have all found joy after sorrow.


End file.
